


To Baby Drake

by IgnorantArmies



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Starts angsty, Uncharted 4, angsty fluff, ends fluffy, is that a thing?, sam has feels, slightly serious domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-24 10:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13809630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnorantArmies/pseuds/IgnorantArmies
Summary: Sam comes to terms with the fact that he's about to become an uncle.(More post UC4 fluff/babysitting shenaniganshere)





	1. Mazel Tov

“Holy shit.”

The phone dangled from Sam’s fingers as he wandered back into the hotel room from the balcony, looking a little dazed.

Chloe was dealing cards on the bedside cabinet they’d requisitioned as their poker table for the evening but paused when she saw the glazed expression on Sam’s pale face. She’d seen that look before – the guy had a whole apartment full of skeletons, not just a closet – but it wasn’t often he let his guard down and allowed his worry to show. Just like his brother, he’d laugh it off or grit his teeth and fight through the pain. But right now he looked like he’d just been punched in the gut.

He'd taken the call a good ten minutes ago, stepping out onto the balcony for privacy. She'd assumed it was a contact for their upcoming job but by the look on his face this was personal. 

Anxiety prickled at the back of Chloe’s neck. “What’s wrong?”

Sam rubbed at his face as if trying to wake himself from a dream. He sat down heavily in the chair opposite and took a long draught of his beer, staring blankly at the tabletop. "That was Nathan."

"Is he okay?"

“Yeah… yeah. He’s fine. They’re fine. Shit.”

Chloe put the deck of cards down and stared at him. “Samuel?” she said carefully, as if talking to a particularly slow child, “What happened?”

When he lifted his eyes to hers he had to blink a little to clear his vision. If she didn't know him better she'd say there were tears. He coughed out an uncomfortable laugh and gave her a shaky kind of smile.

“Uh. Well. I guess… I’m gonna be an uncle.”

Chloe barely had time to react when the door burst open and Sully’s voice came ringing out behind her, “Mazel tov!”

Sullivan brandished a bottle of champagne in one hand and his trademark cigar in the other. He grabbed a spare chair as he crossed the room and clattered it down in between Chloe and Sam.

“You hear the news?” he said, setting the bottle down on the table with a flourish. “Nate just called. Auspicious day!”

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh. Sam still looked like a lost puppy. “Yeah, we heard,” she grinned. “Guess that makes you a grandpa, huh?”

“ _Grandpa_?” Sullivan made a face, “No, no, none of that, thank you very much. The little squirt can call me Sully like the rest of you.”

“I dunno,” Sam said, regaining a little of his usual drawling tone, “I reckon ‘Pops’ might suit you better.”

“Pops, my ass,” was Sully’s gravelly reply as he twisted out the cork, took a swig and passed the bottle to Chloe.

“Can you imagine?” she muttered in between drinks, “Nate with a baby… He’ll probably take it rock climbing before it can walk. Elena’s gonna have her work cut out for her with two Drakes in the house.”

“Ah, he’ll figure it out,” Sam said, chewing on his lower lip. “Domestic life suits him.”

There was a moment of contemplative silence. Sam swiped the bottle from her hands a little too urgently, gulping down two huge mouthfuls that made him cough. 

He was right. Domestic life _did_ suit Nate. No matter how bizarre it seemed. But Chloe had a feeling Sam hadn’t meant it as a compliment. She knew he missed his brother. Sully did too. Hell, even she sometimes wished Nate was with them when the going got tough – he had a knack of getting out of sticky situations in a skin-of-his-teeth way. And it wasn’t the same without him. 

“To Nate and Elena,” she said, to cut the silence, raising her beer to the ceiling. 

“To sleepless nights and stinky diapers!” Sully countered.

They waited for Sam to add his own toast. He still had the champagne bottle in his fist and looked a little like he wanted to either smash it or down it.

“To baby Drake,” he said eventually, in a quiet, uncertain voice.

They finished the champagne in no time, playing a couple of rounds of Texas Holdem and letting Sully take responsibility for most of the conversation – child rearing distractions aside, they still had a job to do and Sully had big plans for their next heist.

Chloe watched as Sam dipped into a drink-induced stupor, chain smoking and bluffing on stupid hands for no apparent reason. Eventually he folded completely, going all in on a round he couldn’t have possibly won. Sully called him on it and Sam shoved a handful of coins across the table, kicking back his chair and retreating out onto the balcony to stare out over the bustling midnight city, flicking cigarette ash down onto the street below.

After a few more hands, Sully made his excuses, exchanging a significant look with Chloe that she guessed meant something like ‘keep an eye on him’, and left to get some shuteye.

Chloe joined Sam on the balcony. The night air was clammy, and the breeze was comprised mostly of smog – hardly refreshing. Sam didn’t seem to notice her at first, until she plucked his latest cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. He looked back into the room, almost startled to see it empty.

“Oh, are you done? You want me to go?” he asked. It was her room, after all. He was sharing with Sully, but she had a feeling Sam found it hard to talk to the old man sometimes - standing in his brother’s shadow and all.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” she said, with a sigh. It wasn’t a question. She wasn’t exactly shrink-material but if she was going to work with him, she needed to know he wasn’t going to lose his shit.

“Yeah, no. I don’t know. It’s stupid,” he muttered, fidgeting against the railing, unsure what to do with his hands now that she’d stolen his cigarette. She handed it back and he relaxed instantly.

“It’s about Nate and Elena? The baby?” she guessed.

Sam exhaled a long stream of smoke. “It’s stupid,” he repeated, catching her eye for just a second before looking away. “I’m happy for them,” he shrugged, “Course I am. Nathan… he always wanted a family. A real one. You know – a _home_. I could never give him that.”

Chloe nodded slowly. He tried so hard to keep his face impassive but the lines around his eyes held more than he knew. She knew enough about the brothers’ childhood to know it was a no-go area: mother got sick ano committed suicide; father gave them up to an orphanage; and Sam had been Nate’s idol. He’d always done his best, Nate said, but living on the street and chasing after adventure wasn’t exactly a white picket fence and three square meals a day. And then there was that whole thing with the Avery treasure. Not even telling his brother he was out of jail. And lying to him… Sam was still carrying that guilt. Probably would for the rest of his life.

“Hey,” she said gently, even though this kind of soul bearing stuff made her feel supremely awkward, “You _are_ his family. Nothing’s gonna change because he’s starting his own. I mean," she stumbled, "Actually, _everything’s_ gonna change – having a baby is like, wow, they’re not gonna know what’s hit ‘em…” She shook her head – this was all coming out wrong. She rested her hand on his and felt him flinch infinitesimally. “But they’re still gonna need you,” she said, “Now more than ever.”

Sam’s Adam’s apple jerked up and down as if he was having trouble swallowing. He blinked into the darkness and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

She let her hand slip away from his and leaned against the railing. “Uncle Sam, huh?”

He barked out a laugh. “And Auntie Chloe?”

“Oh no, I’m with Sully on that one. I’m just the cool friend who takes the kid out to do dangerous and inappropriate things every so often.”

She risked a look sideways. He had a lopsided smile on his face. “Sounds about right,” he murmured.

“How about you?” she asked, “What’s your job gonna be? Barbecues in the back yard? Giving the birds ‘n’ bees talk? Taking them to dance recitals and football practice?”

The smile disappeared and the troubled look returned. “I don’t… I don’t expect they’ll want me round all that much.”

Chloe’s patience with the gentle approach faded abruptly and she gave an exasperated sigh. “That’s utter bullshit, Sam, and you know it.”

Sam hunched his shoulders over the balcony. “Is it, though? Really? Like I’d be a such a great influence on a kid, right? Look at Nathan – look at all the crap I put him through…” 

“That’s different-”

He gestured wildly with his cigarette, “Hey kid, come sit on uncle Sam’s lap, let him tell you how he almost ruined your dad’s life for a pile of fuckin’ gold-” His voice raised to a pitch and then cracked.

Chloe shook her head at him. “Don’t be an arsehole.”

Sam leaned towards her – too close, too intense - thirteen years of surviving in a shithole of a prison engrained in his glaring eyes. “But I _am_ an asshole, Chloe.”

A tight kind of silence followed as she forced herself to match his gaze. She'd meant to help but she was no good at this heart to heart shit, and neither was he. She certainly hadn’t intended for things to turn into an argument. Sam seemed to feel the same and shrunk into himself guiltily, tossing his cigarette butt over the rail a little harder than he needed to. He ran his hands roughly through his hair and headed back into the room, gathering up his jacket and a half-empty beer from the table, muttering to himself under his breath.

“Hey!” Chloe called after him, just before he reached the door. 

He stopped with his back to her and sighed. “What?”

“Nate called you first,” she said. “Not Sully. You. He didn’t even bother to call me." Her voice softened a little, "Sam, he wanted _you_ to know first.”

Sam sniffed, giving a tiny nod. “Right.” He fiddled with his jacket, suddenly seeming a lot smaller than he had a second ago when he was looming over her.

“He wants you around, Sam. Stop trying to find a reason not to be.”

He didn’t slam the door behind him but he might as well have.


	2. Voicemail

Sam stared at the phone. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Certainly more often than he answered it. He’d been taking job after job after job – with and without Sully – since that night at the hotel, staying on the move, finding anything to avoid going back to New Orleans. He knew why he was doing it; he knew it was stupid and childish and worthy of some serious psychoanalysis but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

He spun his phone on the bar, the white noise of the busy _trattoria_ fading into the background. There was another voicemail from Nathan. Nathan never left voicemails. Or when he did they were generally one-liners along the theme of: “Call me back, you little bitch.”

Sam had listened to this one twice over already but still couldn’t bring himself to dial Nathan’s number. He replayed it again, instead:

“Heeeey, Sam. How’s Italy? Been trying to get hold of you since… Well. Look, I really didn’t wanna have to tell you the news you over the phone, y’know, it’s something we wanted to do in person, but since you didn’t know when you’d get back and we’ve been _dying_ tryin’ to keep it a secret this long... So we had another scan today, ‘bout 20 weeks along. It’s got eyelids now, apparently. And… It – _she_ ’s a girl.”

Nathan gave a little laugh down the phone. “We got a picture – well, one of those weird ultrasound things. Looks like a little turtle, actually. And Elena’s stopped getting sick, thank _God_ , but oh man. I know she’s doing all the hard work here but… mood swings. Holy shit.” There was a pause and Elena said something indecipherable in the background, followed by the unmistakable thwack of a hand slapping flesh. “Hey, hey, take it easy. Uh, what I _meant_ to say was: Elena is an absolute delight from sunup to sundown. That better?” Laughter. More mumbling. “Oh, oh, and she can feel it moving, too. Little sucker’s got a real solid right hook…”

Sam’s smile was thin and distant as he listened. He tapped his glass as the barman passed and it was refilled like magic.

“Look,” Nathan said, a touch of hesitance in his voice, “I don’t know if you’re getting these messages. I don’t know what your plans are, or if you’re coming home any time soon but… It'd be real good to see you, Sam.”

Another pause. Just long enough for Sam to down his drink in one.

“Alright, well. Hope you’re doing okay. Let us know, huh?”

The message ended. Sam’s phone asked if he wanted to save, reply, or delete the message. He picked the third option, scooped up his jacket and headed out into the night.

#

When Sam looks back on Nathan as a kid all he can think of are the times things went wrong. All the times he didn’t do enough, or wasn’t there when Nathan needed him, or just plain fucked things up.

There were a lot of those.

Still, he never regretted it. Not once. He never saw Nathan as a burden, even when he wished things could be different; wished he could give him more than scavenged meals and nights spent squatting in boarded up apartment blocks full of junkies. And running. Always running.

Sure, it was fun at first - free from St Francis' and off on an adventure with a brand new name and their mother's journal - but the dream of freedom turned out to be a lot easier than the reality. The hunger and the cold and the fear stayed with Sam long after Nathan had fallen asleep; a gnawing worry that never left; the desperate need to keep him safe, even when sometimes 'safe' wasn't even an option and he all he had to fall back on was 'keep him alive and in more or less one piece'. 

The kinds of people they inevitably ended up dealing with didn't help the situation, either. Forged papers - good ones - were expensive, and Sam sunk them into all kinds of debt with all kinds of unsavoury characters. He soon realised there was no way of paying it back. It was a racket. There was always another job, another hike in interest for a late payment, another favour, and saying 'no' to these guys wasn't exactly an option. 

They passed a year that way, stumbling further down into the darker recesses of the Boston underworld, until one day Sam's luck and charm ran out. He'd tried his best to keep Nathan away from any of his 'business meetings' as much as possible but his employers knew his weak spot, knew he would do anything to look after his kid brother, and gave him an ultimatum. If he didn't pay off his debt in full by the end of the month he'd have to bring Nathan in to work it off alongside him.

Nathan, fourteen, too clever for his own damn good, and sick of being left behind, was more than ready to step up but Sam was immovable. The thought of tangling his brother up in that shit was too much. They made a break for the border the next day. A new life, a new country, and a whole bunch of brand new problems.

For a while he tried to go straight – to do things properly - a shitty job washing dishes at a tiny family restaurant on the outskirts of Cancun whose owner looked at him with sad, suspicious eyes and let him take home leftovers for his brother.

"You don't want any?" Nathan would ask, sliding his plate half way between them. And Sam would lie, tell him he'd already eaten at the restaurant, and fill his belly with water instead. The kid was growing like a weed, despite the dubious nutritional balance of his diet, and anyway, Sam had always been the skinny one - a few more lost pounds didn't matter so long as Nathan didn't go hungry. Not that his little brother would ever complain. Nathan had adapted to their nomadic, scavenger life unnervingly quickly and Sam couldn't help feel proud of his tenacity. And the one time he'd questioned the situation - on a particularly cold night spent huddled in a stinking, leaking garage on the run from their debtors - Sam had been quick to quash it: "You'd rather be back at St Francis' in the warm?" he snapped, "Three shitty meals a day and Sister Catherine on your case? I can take you right back, you know. Just say the word." He hadn't meant to be so cruel but for a moment he wondered if it wouldn't be the worst idea to send Nathan back to the boys' home. At least until he was a little older. But Nathan had shoved him away and scooted back, glaring fiercely at him in the low light. 

"I'm never going back," Nathan said, serious as a heart attack, "We're the Drake brothers, right?"

Sam felt a smile lift the corner of his lips. Kid was fierce when he wanted to be. "Right," he echoed softly. "C'mere," he waved his little brother back over to their cardboard fort, stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around the boy, pulling him tight into his side. "We're the Drake brothers."

#

It took them another year to work their way down to Cartegena,  with no particular destination in mind except a vague plan to end up in Peru, eventually, because Nathan had always wanted to go. So south they went, hitchhiking and grifting and brushing up their thievery skills. Nathan wasn't half bad, either, but his pickpocketing talents left a little to be desired - which is exactly where it all went wrong.

They'd been working a market in the early evening when the tourists were drunk and sloppy and  _los tombos_ were tired and lazy. Sam came running at Nathan's cry of pain and found him in an alley behind a bar - a bald-headed guy had him by the wrist, twisting it painfully and sending Nathan halfway to his knees. In his other hand, the guy held up a wallet and was yelling at Nathan in rapidfire Spanish. Sam's brain bypassed the sensible option of talking it out, laughing it off, sweet-talking the guy into letting it slide, and sent him straight into feral mode. Sam leapt onto Baldie's back, wrapping a wiry arm around the guy's neck and yanking back with all his might. They toppled backwards together, the big guy landing on top of Sam and driving all the air out of him. An elbow to his gut kept Sam down, curling into a ball and fighting for breath. Baldie clambered to his feet, cursing the pair of them, and that might have been the end of it if Nathan hadn't taken it upon himself to smash a broken plank into the guy's face.

"Nathan, no!" Sam gasped, dragging himself to all fours. The side of the bald guy's head was streaked with blood but the blow barely made him pause, and now all his focus was on Nathan. The kid's bravado faded and he shrank against the alley wall as the man approached. Sam was almost upright now, casting around wildly for some sort of weapon. The guy struck his little brother across the face with an open hand. Nathan went down with a little grunt of pain and lay horribly still. And something inside Sam broke. He threw himself at the guy, screaming obscenities, fighting as dirty as he knew how - anything to get him away from Nathan. And then there was a broken bottle in his hand and shouts from the market and sirens and he was being slapped into handcuffs and it was all over.

#

It didn't matter that he was taking a fall for his brother. What mattered that he was leaving him alone. His defence was less than useless but he hadn't expected more than a few months of jail time for public disorder and assault. He also hadn't considered the fact that he was no longer young enough for juvie. His first adult prison, in a foreign country, for nine long months.

He wanted to throw up when they passed the sentence. Nathan was watching from the courtroom balcony but his face remained impassive. The kid had grown up a lot in the last few years and Sam knew Nathan was capable of taking care of himself - Sam had left the orphanage at about the same age, after all - but it didn't make leaving him any easier. He had one job - keep Nathan safe - and he'd failed already. The more he thought about it, the more he realised he'd been failing the whole time - a whole series of little defeats, all building up to this one. 

And when Sam got out, with a brand new nicotine habit and a habitual snarl that never seemed to leave his lips, Nathan had found himself a _real_ guardian; someone who had the money and experience and skills to _really_ keep him safe. Sam wanted to hate Victor from the start but the most he could muster was a quiet kind of resentment. Sully cared about Nathan, that much was clear, and Sam started to wonder if maybe he'd never been cut out to act the responsible adult anyway. Maybe it would be better if he left the two of them to it, struck out on his own. Nathan would manage without him. All Sam seemed to do was get them all into trouble. 

The prison visits became more frequent, with and without Nathan, and Victor's tolerance for Sam's risky  _modus operandi_  reached breaking point. The breaks between working together got longer and longer, until an unexpected lead reminded them of where they'd started.  _Avery_. A forgotten cell in a crumbling tower in Panama. Their mother's research. The Drake legacy. And for the first time in years it was like they were kids again, chasing adventure, the two of them against the whole damn world...

 _Yeah. Look how that one turned_ _out_.

Sam had come to terms with it in his own way. It was partly why he'd spent those two years with Rafe, hiding away from the world, letting his secrets pile up and avoiding facing his brother. Nathan didn't need him any more, and Sam couldn't protect him, no matter how hard he tried. 

#

When his phone buzzed again he cancelled the call without even looking. The voicemails were becoming less frequent. And Nathan was getting worse at hiding the disappointment in his voice. Sam knew he was being an asshole but it made a screwed up kind of sense to his guilt-fuelled brain.

 _Better to be a let down right from the start._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> los tombos = Columbian slang for police


	3. Count Your Blessings

Sully waited until they were out of town, skirting the foothills of the Pontic mountains, where the view merged into varying shades of green and brown with the occasional novelty of a lake, and conversation about their upcoming job lulled into silence.

He’d had to use all his worldly charms to get Sam to work with him – the kid had been avoiding him lately – and he suspected it was only the lure of a month-long transcontinental treasure hunt that had convinced him to come along. Anything to keep him from heading back to American soil and having to face what he’d been avoiding all this time. Sam had been working flat out for the last four months. It wasn’t exactly unusual behaviour - Sam never did well with long periods of downtime (Sully guessed he’d had plenty of that back in Panama) - but going so long without even checking in with Nate raised a whole battalion of red flags and Sully had had enough of indulging the kid’s surliness whenever his brother was mentioned.

Sully drove the four-by-four while Sam lounged in the passenger seat, sunglasses shading his eyes, smoking cigarette after cigarette and giving monosyllabic answers to anything other than the job at hand.

“Shouldn’t take us more than a couple more weeks,” Sully said. “And then time for a little R ‘n’ R back home?”

Sam grunted non-committally.

“Dunno about you but I’m about ready for a break. Get back for Mardi Gras, find ourselves some decent company and take a load off?” Sully raised a euphemistic eyebrow but Sam didn’t respond.

_Time to be a little less subtle._

“And check in on Nate and Elena, maybe?”

Sam made a noise that sounded a lot like ‘meh’, then turned to stare off at the mountains flanking their right. “Maybe,” he echoed. “Except... I dunno, Chloe and Nadine said they might need a third man for a job they’re planning. Somewhere in the Philippines.”

Sully gave a grumbling sigh. “Right. ‘Cause I know how much you enjoy getting henpecked by the pair of them.”

Sam shrugged. “Beats sittin’ on my ass.”

“Okay. Well, offer still stands. You’re welcome to stay with me any time, you know.”

“Mm hmm.”

_Conversation over, then. Hey, I tried._

They drove on in silence for a handful of miles before Sully’s phone bleeped. “Hey, check that for me, will ya?”

Sam sighed and reached into the glove compartment. “Victor, if it’s another ‘special photo’ from one of your dates… I really don’t need to see that shit.”

“Just check the damn phone. It might be from our contact.”

Sam frowned at the message for a second then tossed the phone into Sully’s lap.

Sully glanced down at the screen to see a picture of Nate and Elena sitting on their deck; Nate looking tanned and slightly tired; Elena sporting a blossoming baby bump and positively glowing.

“Cute,” Sully said. “They look happy, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered.

“She’s gotta be seven months gone now, right?”

“Yup.”

Sully’s temper began to rise. _Kid’s acting like a goddamn teenager..._

“Been a while since you’ve been back,” he said pointedly, passing the phone back. “Have you even seen them since they-”

Sam was scowling now. He shoved the phone back in the glove box and put his feet up on the dash with a roughness that belied any attempt at nonchalance. “What? I’ve been busy, you know that.”

“Uh huh.”

“If you’ve got something to say, Victor…”

Sully shook his head. “You think they can’t see through all that? Jesus, you’re about as opaque as a glass-bottomed boat.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam snapped.

Sully let the angry silence settle, then: “I ever tell you about my old man?”

Sam groaned. “No, but I can feel a long, tangential story coming on…”

“He was a military man,” Sully continued, ignoring the comment. “Kinda why I ended up in the navy, in fact. But… he had a tough time. Couldn’t shake off what he’d seen. What he’d done. He brought all that violence and all that fear back with him.”

Sam listened, a little more respectful all of a sudden. Sully paused. He had to yank the words out of himself like pulling stitches. There was an unwritten rule between him and the Drake boys that personal stories only got told after a good five or six drinks... Still, getting through to Sam right now was more important than the ghosts of his past.

“He wasn’t exactly a model father,” Sully said, with a wry smile. “And I guess he realised that too, because he took off when I was seven. Sent a little money back now and then but all but disappeared by the time I was twelve.”

Sam was nodding now. Sully guessed he knew all too well what it was like to be abandoned. _All the more reason to stick around, you damn idiot._

“I tracked him down in my forties – not long before I ran into a certain little brother of yours in fact. He was old. Sick. Resentful. On his way out. You know, he got angry at me for even trying to make amends. He’d spent his life thinking we’d be better off without him. Maybe he was right… Doesn’t stop me wishing he’d given it a try, though.”

Sam let out the breath he’d been holding. “What’re you trying to say, Victor?”

“I’m saying,” Sully sighed, “Running away from your responsibilities might be the easy way but it’ll only leave you full of regrets.”

Sam looked at him sideways, “You realise I’m not this kid’s dad, right? And maybe… Maybe you _were_ better off without your old man. God knows we were better off without ours around,” he added bitterly.

"Well, that's what I thought too, for a long while. And then Nate came along. And not long after that, there were two of you." Sully glanced over at Sam, who was fumbling with his cigarette packet. "I'd never planned on kids, y'know. But you take what you're given and you do your best with it. And I know one thing. If I'd walked away from that scrappy little teenager who picked my pocket back in Cartegena I'd have regretted it for the rest of my life."

A heavy silence followed. Sully nodded to himself, waiting for the inevitable murmured apology - on anyone else, that little speech would have resulted in tears, but on Sam it only provoked a deeper scowl. 

"That's real sweet, Victor," Sam said, "But daddy issues are the same the world over. Doesn't mean you don't end up repeating all the same mistakes."

_I’ve had about enough of this self-pitying bullshit…_

Sully slammed on the breaks, sending Sam crashing into the dashboard with a flurry of expletives.

“Listen to me,” Sully fumed, “You get one shot at this life, Sam. You’ve already wasted fifteen years of it. And if I have to drag you back to New Orleans by the scruff of your neck so help me-”

“Okay, okay,” Sam placated, rubbing at his knees where they’d smashed into the dash. “Jeez. I’ll go see ‘em when we're done here. Happy?”

Sully fired up the engine and fixed him with a glare. “I’ll be happy when you stop feeling sorry for yourself and start to count your goddamn blessings.”

Sam fidgeted in his seat as the car pulled off again. Sully shook his head. He’d never understand the kid. _Jesus. You’d think he’d just been given another life sentence._


	4. Runs in the Family

The job took longer than expected. It also involved a whole lot more falling down mountainsides and getting shot at than he'd anticipated. Sam was tired and battered and wanted nothing more than to sleep for a couple of weeks but the invitation had been waiting for him when he got home and he couldn't put it off any more.

He'd never understood the whole baby shower thing. Elena's friends had decorated the place with balloons and streamers and all kinds of pastel shit and the baby wasn't even here yet. Sam sighed as he jostled his way through the hall, past a crowd of unfamiliar faces, hoping to high heaven they served alcohol at these things.

"Sam!" 

Nathan came barrelling out of the lounge with a disbelieving smile on his face, stopping just short of his brother, as if he couldn't quite work out whether to hug him or punch him.

"Hey, little brother."

"Glad you could make it," Nathan said, and there was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice.

"Yeah. Look, I know I haven't been around lately but-"

"You've been busy," Nathan interjected.

An awkward silence lengthened the distance between them.

"It's good to see you," Nathan said at last.

"You too. How's Elena doin'?"

At the mention of her name, Nathan's face transformed into a beacon of light. "She's doin' great. Big as a house and twice as hungry."

Sam's lips twisted in a smile. "A hungry house?"

Nathan pulled him through to the kitchen. "You have no idea. There are six tubs of ice cream in the freezer right now and I'm not allowed any of 'em."

Elena was standing by the back door with a glass of lemonade resting on her impressively vast bump, chatting to an older woman.

"There she is," Nathan pointed, glancing back over his shoulder as the doorbell rang, "Go say hi, I gotta play host. Honestly, I don't know who half these people are..."

Sam nodded and made a slow beeline for his sister-in-law. The older woman at her side looked Sam up and down in quiet horror when he approached and he gave her a respectful nod. Fair enough, he was still covered in scrapes and bruises from the last job, with his left arm in a homemade sling and a black eye that was fading into sickly yellows and browns, but he’d tried to scrub up for the occasion. He was even wearing a proper button-down shirt.

The woman moved aside a little to let him through and he gave Elena a gentle nudge with his shoulder.

Elena looked up in surprise and then delight when she saw him. "Hey."

They took in one another's changed appearance with twin smirks.

“You look… pregnant,” he said.

She elbowed him in the ribs then sighed down at her belly, giving it a weary, affectionate rub. “I look like I’ve swallowed a beach ball.”  
  
“Nah, it suits you. You oughta get yourself knocked up more often.”

Elena stifled a laugh as the older woman gave a little ‘huh!’ of offence. “Sam…” Elena said meaningfully, putting an arm around the woman and pulling her closer, “I’d like to introduce you to my _mother_.”

Sam didn’t falter for a second, but smiled his most winning smile and put out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Fisher.”

Elena’s mother looked down at the proffered hand – knuckles raw from fist fights, dirt so far under his nails that it might never come out – and let out a small sigh of resignation. “You must be Nate’s brother,” she said, grasping his fingers surprisingly firmly.

“The very same.”

“Elena tells me you’re an antiques dealer,” she said doubtfully.

He cast his sister-in-law a look. _Really, Elena?_ She avoided his eye, wearing her patented poker face, and took a sip of her drink. Her mother waited patiently for an answer.

Sam gave a short cough and started looking for an exit. “Of sorts.”

“And what’s your area of expertise?”

“Ohhh, you know, fingers in a lotta different pies. Right now I’m tracking down a sixth century rarity from the Persian empire. But it’s all pretty boring stuff – paperwork, mostly.”

Elena’s mother nodded slowly. “Dangerous, is it, this paperwork?”

“Huh?” 

Her eyes traced over the bruises, the sling, the black eye, and her eyebrows lifted. 

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, uh, yeah, had a little disagreement with a staircase last week. Clumsy as all hell, that’s me.”

That same mischievous smirk of Elena’s haunted her mother’s lips all of a sudden, “Hmm. Your brother seems to have the same problem.”

“Runs in the family,” he shrugged.

“Well, let’s hope those ‘clumsy’ genes don’t get passed on,” she said, glancing significantly at her daughter’s bump.

“Oh, I think the Fisher genes are gonna be pretty dominant in this one,” Sam said, wishing he’d grabbed a drink before he’d started this conversation.

Elena snickered quietly beside him. “They’d better be.”

“So,” her mother said brightly, not nearly done with him. “Ready to be an uncle?”

To be honest, it hadn’t really hit him yet. A few more weeks and it would be all too real – a brand new little life in the world. A tiny ache of fear tugged at his stomach whenever he thought about it.

Elena was watching for his reaction too, just a hint of anxiety in her eyes. He had a lot to make up for, he knew, but he was hoping it would be a chance for a fresh start. A chance to right some wrongs.

“Already got a college fund set up,” he replied, smoothly. “And I happen to be an _excellent_ storyteller.”

This seemed to satisfy both women, who exchanged a familiar smile.

“I’m sure you have enough stories to last a lifetime,” Elena’s mother said, and her face softened towards him somewhat.

Someone called Elena’s name from across the yard and she ducked out of the conversation with an apologetic glance at Sam as she left him alone with her mother. “Get yourself a drink,” she whispered as she passed him, “You could be here a while.”

“Oh dear god,” he replied under his breath.

Her mother watched her go, a thoughtful tightness at the edges of her mouth. “From what I hear you have some experience in that area already,” she said, turning back to Sam.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Elena says you all but raised Nate as a child.”

He couldn’t figure out her expression. Was it disapproval or admiration or a mix of the two? He nodded shortly.

“Dragged him up, I guess.”

“Must have been difficult,” she said, studying him, “You can’t have been more than a child yourself.”

He shrugged it off. He didn’t need her pity. Or her judgement. He’d done the best with what he had, and while he might have a million regrets about how much trouble he’d put Nathan through, at least he’d been there. Sometimes that’s all you could do.

“He’s all the family I’ve got,” he said shortly, hoping that would put an end to the interrogation.

“Not anymore,” Elena’s mother countered.

Sam bristled. What, so now he wasn’t good enough for Nathan? Now that his brother had a wife and in-laws and a baby on the way? _Of course_ Elena’s family wouldn’t want him around – the chain-smoking uncle with prison tattoos and no fixed abode – he was an embarrassment. And he knew exactly what they saw when they looked at him, these upper-middle class boomers with their perfect lawns and their brunch and their trust funds. How the hell did Nathan put up with these stiffs? And how had Elena turned out so… well… awesome?

He wasn’t going to dignify the comment with a response but the woman suddenly leaned in and rested a warm hand on his uninjured forearm. He did his best not to flinch back from the uninvited physical contact.

“I mean,” she said, softer this time, “It’s not just the two of you anymore. Now that you’re all back together. Now that our family’s growing…”

_Our family. Wait, did that include him?_

She looked up at him with a sternness reminiscent of the sisters in the orphanage. “I know it means a lot to Nathan to have you here. So I expect to see you around more often once this baby arrives, Samuel.”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered automatically, feeling a little thunderstruck. _What the hell was happening?_

“We take Thanksgiving and Christmas very seriously in the Fisher household, I hope you realise. Plus there’s birthdays. Easter. Summers at the lake house…”

 _Of_ course _they have a lake house._

He gave her an obedient nod. “Sounds… delightful.”

“It _is_. Much nicer than your dusty old office, I’m sure. And no tricky staircases.” She winked – actually _winked_ at him. He needed a cigarette or six.

Elena’s mother threaded her arm through his and led him back into the house where the kitchen counter was spread with party nibbles and – thank god – a healthy array of alcohol.

“Now,” she said, “Let me fix you something to eat and you can tell me _all_ about this artefact – what was it? - oh yes, a _rarity_ from Persia…”

Sam cast a desperate look back across the yard as he was forcibly but amiably dragged inside and caught sight of Elena and Nathan waving at him, not even attempting to keep the amusement off their faces.

_Well, two can play at that game._

“Gladly,” he said, “But first, has Nathan ever told you about his magician phase?”

Her eyes lit up as she passed him an expertly mixed martini and a plate piled high with snacks. “You know, I don’t believe he has…”


	5. The Hook

**5:04am - text from Nathan**

[It's happening. Holy shit. Heading to hospital now.]

**6:35am - text from Nathan**

[Elena is really fucking good at this. Docs think it's gonna happen pretty quick. Feel like a third wheel though. Wish I'd brought snacks.]

**7:19am - text from Nathan**

[Gas and air is apparently better than sex. But I think she broke my hand.] 

**8.40am - text from Nathan**

[Sam? You awake? I need you.]

**8.45am - missed call from Nathan**

**8.48am - missed call from Nathan**

**8.52am - text from Nathan**

[Sam! Answer your damn phone.]

#

The buzzing of his phone threaded itself into Sam's hangover and he almost tossed it across the room before he caught sight of Nathan's name on the screen. Shit, how many messages had he missed? A heavy weight in his chest made him pause, finger hovering over the cancel button.  _Don't let it go to voicemail, asshole. Not this time._

Sam took a breath and answered. 

"Hey. Everything okay?"

"Sam! Sam, Jesus, I've been calling- Are you in town? Can you get to the hospital?" Nathan's voice was breathless and shot through with anxiety.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Sam said, knuckling the sleep out of his eyes.

Victor had made Sam promise on pain of death not to leave the city until the baby was born but his wanderlust had abated a little recently anyway. Seeing Nate and Elena at the baby shower hadn't been as painful as he'd imagined and their goofy excitement about the whole thing was kind of infectious. He'd even picked up a little gift in anticipation of the big day. But now, faced with the prospect of it actually happening, that old familiar dread that had been tailing him for the past six months came lurching back up into his stomach.

"How soon?" Nathan asked, an edge of desperation in his voice that raised Sam's hackles.

"I... uh, I'll be right there, what's goin' on?"

"She's... the baby's here. About ten minutes ago, but-"

Nathan's voice broke and there was silence. Sam sat up, adrenaline and fear prickling at the back of his neck.

"Nathan?"

When his brother spoke again it was patchy and incoherent. "Elena... she, she... she had a postpartum hemorrhage... all of a sudden, her blood pressure just dropped and she... they had to... she's having a blood transfusion now..."

"Jesus..." Sam whispered, too afraid to ask the only question that mattered, but Nathan gathered himself together with a cough and continued.

"She's okay. She's okay. They're treating her now. She's gonna be okay. And the baby's fine. But I'm here on my own, Sam, I just- I need you."

Sam was out of bed and shoving his jeans on already, balancing the phone between his shoulder and chin as he stuffed his bare feet into his boots. "Hold on, little brother, I'm coming."

#

Sam got a couple of dirty looks as he made his way through the antenatal ward to Elena and Nathan's room. He knew he must look like shit, probably still stinking of cigarettes and bourbon in the clothes he'd been wearing the night before, but he didn't care. He counted the door numbers until he found the right one and hesitated for only a second before knocking. Nathan answered it, looking in even worse shape than Sam. His hair stuck up in all directions and the dark smudges under his eyes suggested he'd been awake long before his first 5am text. Sam had expected bleeping machines and hurrying nurses and an atmosphere of general stress and panic but the room was quiet and still.

Sam didn't have time to even say hello before his little brother pulled him into a bear hug. Sam returned it, holding him a little tighter as he became aware of a faint trembling in Nathan's arms.

Nathan broke off first, turning away to wipe at his eyes and Sam gave him a moment, peering past his brother into the dimly-lit room. Elena lay asleep on the bed, looking pale but peaceful. A little plastic cot stood next to an armchair by the window, its contents obscured by blankets. 

"How's she doing?" Sam asked in a whisper, nodding at Elena.

A weak smile crossed Nathan's face. "Good. She's doing good. Strong and stubborn as hell, you know," he shrugged. "Just needs to rest."

Sam couldn't help thinking about the sound of Nathan's voice on the phone. How scared he'd been. Like the little five-year-old boy from long ago, asking why his mom wasn't ever coming back.

Sam knew a little about what had happened in Shambhala; the grenade that almost stole Elena away from his brother... She was surprisingly together about it, considering - even ribbing Sam about how her scars were more badass than his - but that terror had never quite left Nathan. Losing Elena was... inconceivable. Sam reached out a hand and squeezed his brother's shoulder.  _She's okay._

They watched her sleep for a moment and Sam felt like an intruder in a world he didn't belong. The silence of the room was oppressive. He realised something was missing and glanced around in surprise. "Where's Victor?" he asked, "Thought he'd be here before me."  _Thought he'd be the first one you'd call._

Nathan shook his head, "Hospital said family only until she's stable."

"But... Victor _is_ family," Sam said firmly, and meant it. 

"Not on paper," Nathan shrugged. "And Elena's mom is still stuck in Baltimore - flight got delayed."

Sam cursed himself for sleeping through Nathan's earlier messages. _What kind of a brother misses his niece's birth?_ He could see a fresh wave of exhaustion threatening to break Nathan once more and he tightened his grip, pulling him in for a sideways hug and giving him a little reassuring shake. "Hey, I'm here now. Let's see this little critter, huh?"

Nathan gave a smile Sam had never seen before - somewhere in between adoration and pride - as they looked down at the little face peeking out from the mummification-style blanket arrangement.

It was... well, a baby.

Sam didn't have a whole lot of opinions on kids; sure they were chubby and cute but they couldn't hold a conversation and were far too needy for his liking. He could just about remember his brother as a newborn, going to visit his mom in the hospital and getting an earful from his dad for wanting to run up and down the corridors instead of sitting in the stuffy, boring room.

Babies, it turned out, were pretty dull, and took up way too much of his mom's time for Sam's liking. It was only when Nathan was old enough to focus his eyes on Sam's face and return a smile that he properly fell in love - a fierce, aching love that made him take the role of big brother extremely seriously, especially when their mom started to get sick and their dad started to lose his shit on a regular basis, lashing out at the tiniest infraction. Nathan would creep into Sam's bed at night when the sound of raised voices rattled through the floorboards and Sam would read to him, or make up his own stories, telling tales of the adventures the two of them would go on, lifting details from their mother's research to make it even more real. Nathan would stare up at him with this look in his eyes, like Sam was his whole world, and it was as if he'd attached a hook right into his heart and was _tugging_ on it. It was almost painful.

The same ache pulled at his chest now as he watched Nathan peel back the blankets and run a gentle finger along the baby's cheek. 

"I can't believe she's real," Nathan whispered.

Sam grinned. "Did you think she was imaginary all this time?"

"No, but- you should've seen it, Sam. Elena was incredible. I mean, can you believe  _this_ came out of her..."

Sam screwed up his face. "I think I can live without that image in my head, thank you."

But Nathan was too enraptured with his daughter to notice Sam's sarcasm. "And then..." Nathan unconsciously put a hand to his chest and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. "There she was. A whole brand new person in the world, just like that."

"Pretty amazing," Sam said, and couldn't help smiling at his brother's reverie.

Nathan snapped out of it suddenly and reached down to ease the baby out of the cot. "Hey, you wanna hold her?"

Sam backed away without really meaning to. "Oh. Wow. I dunno-"

"Go on, she won't break."

And before Sam could protest Nathan was handing the bundle over and there was a tiny, warm little life in Sam's arms. He could feel the movement of her breath, the beating of her heart beneath his hands. She fitted into the crook of his elbow so neatly and didn't even stir at the disruption. Her lips puckered in her sleep and Sam let out a little laugh of disbelief as his brain echoed Nathan's words. _Holy shit. She's real._

Nathan was watching him, an affable smirk on his face. "Suits you."

"Shut up."

"What? It does."

Sam felt a smile tease the corners of his mouth. "Well. I always was the responsible one."

Nathan barked out a laugh. "Right, keep tellin' yourself that."

They stood there in the comforting quiet for a moment more. Sam had started swaying gently without realising it. The weight of the baby was like an anchor, the most tangible thing he'd ever felt.

When he looked up again Nathan was chewing on his lower lip. "It's kinda terrifying, actually," he said quietly.

"What is?"

Nathan stared at the baby, "How do you know you're gonna do it right? Keep her safe? Give her a good life?"

"You don't," Sam replied, not unkindly.

Nathan's eyes flickered up to Sam's with a sad kind of wonder. "When you... When Mom... You took care of me. You were only ten for God's sake. How'd you do it?"

 _There's that ache again._ Every breath felt like an effort. "You... You make it up as you go along, I guess," Sam managed eventually, with a shrug. "I mean, I made a whole lotta mistakes, Nathan-"

"No," Nathan cut in. "No, you didn't. You did the best you could."

The lump in Sam's throat was starting to hurt. "Well then," he said softly. "That's what you do. You do your best. You just love her with everything you got."

Nathan nodded, reaching out to stroke the baby's head. "I think... I already do."

"You're gonna be great at this," Sam said.

And the grin on his brother's face was worth every treasure in the world.

"So are you," Nathan said, giving him a little nudge. "Hey, siddown for a minute," he gestured to the armchair. "I'm gonna go grab a coffee, you okay to stay for a while? In case she wakes up?"

Sam moved to pass the baby back to his brother, "Let me-"

"No, no, I could do with getting out of this room for a minute. If... you don't mind?"

Sam nodded reluctantly and took the offered seat, carefully readjusting his grip on the baby so as not to disturb her. "Sure," he said, hardly noticing his brother leave, his vision consumed by the little person in his arms. She was making tiny noises in her sleep, like a mewling kitten. He pressed his lips to the soft warm skin of her forehead, drinking in the new baby smell.

"Hey," he said, in barely a whisper. "Good to meet you. I'm your uncle Sam."

#

When Elena woke she was groggy and thirsty and weak but the smile she gave Sam was genuine and full of tired contentment. Nathan had returned, freshly caffeinated, with a tray of food from the cafeteria. Sam gave up the armchair for his brother and the baby. He leaned against the windowsill, kinda wishing he had a cigarette in his hands, despite the complete inappropriateness of the idea.

Nathan's phone buzzed and his face lit up as he read updates from Elena's mom and Sully - both on their way. "You up for some more visitors?" he asked Elena, passing the baby over to her.

"Of course," she said, gazing down at her daughter with a look of maternal pride so natural that it seemed to Sam that she'd been doing this forever and not mere hours. "I figure some proper introductions are in order."

Sam watched the three of them - Elena propped up on a stack of pillows, the baby lying contentedly on her chest, and Nathan standing at the bedside with an arm round both of them - the perfect family photo.

"Oh, hey, I got something for her," Sam said, remembering the scrappily-wrapped gift he'd left on the windowsill. He passed it over to Elena with a shrug. "It's not much but- Well. Take a look."

Elena beamed at him and ripped open the wrapping with her free hand. She held up a stuffed toy for Nathan to see. "A duck? Cute!"

Sam shifted, suddenly embarrassed, "Not a duck, exactly..."

Nathan's eyes brightened as he got the joke. "A drake!" he laughed. "See, it's got a green little head."

Elena chuckled, brushing the soft fluff of the toy against the baby's cheek. "It's perfect. Thanks, Sam."

Sam felt his cheeks burning. "You got a name yet?" he asked, to distract from the attention.

Elena and Nathan exchanged a look Sam couldn't decipher. 

"We think so," Elena said at last, "But... we wanted to run it by you first."

"Me?" Sam asked, startled.

Elena nodded at her husband and Nathan cleared his throat. "We thought... We wanted to call her Cassandra. Cassie for short." He watched Sam for his reaction, a nervous twist to his lips.

Sam was lost for words. Lost, in general. He could feel tears brimming in his eyes but he didn't try to stop them. "That's... That'd be..." he swallowed. Twin smiles greeted him when he managed to look back up. "Good name," he said.

And just like that it was settled.

As if on cue, Cassie wriggled and let out a tiny little cry and Sam locked the name away into a corner of his heart as if it had always been there.

In a way it always had.

#

**Two years later.**

"Sam?" Elena's voice called from the hallway. "You seen Cassie?"

"Yeah, in here," Sam said, glancing in the bathroom mirror as Elena came into view.

"Oh. What... what are you doing?" Elena asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Cassie stood on a stool in front of Sam, his body curled around her to stop her from falling. Both their faces were slathered in shaving foam - Sam scraping at the stubble beneath his chin with a razor, Cassie carefully and methodically smearing the foam around her cheeks with a toothbrush.

"Teaching the kid how to shave," Sam answered, dabbing a spot of white off the toddler's nose. "'Bout time she learned."

"Right," Elena smirked. "I mean, of course."

Cassie reached for the bottle of shaving foam but Sam whipped it out of reach, "I think you've had quite enough, little boots."

The little girl gave a humph of frustration but carried on with her work, looking back up at her uncle every few seconds to check she was doing it right, drawing tracks down her bubbly face with the bristles.

"Uhh, Sam?" Elena said. "Is that Nate's toothbrush?"

"Yup," Sam answered with an incorrigible grin.

Elena rolled her eyes. "Well, good work, both of you," she said, ruffling her daughter's hair. "Oh, hey, can you watch her for an hour or so later? We've got a crew meeting."

Sam looked down at his niece and the little invisible hook she'd attached to his heartstrings went 'ping'. 

"Sure thing," he said, his eyes crinkling at the furiously determined expression on Cassie's face. "Any time, sister. Any time at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't get enough of the Uncle Sam/baby Drake fluff then you might wanna read [Babysitting Cassie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13746141/chapters/31585929) next... It's a lot less angsty and a lot more fluffy and also features Chloe, Nadine and Sully. Thanks for reading - kudos and comments always muchly appreciated. :)
> 
> Oh and in case you haven't seen this glorious photoshop magic before... [ENJOY/WEEP/PREPARE FOR OVARY EXPLOSION](https://fhujami.tumblr.com/post/165048060344/okay-i-got-this-idea-about-sam-holding-a-baby-and).


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